Edain
by Etharei
Summary: *COMPLETED* A dangerous game begins between two opposing powers, and Rivendell has been chosen as the battleground. Much stranger than your average Rivendell family story, but had to get it out of my system.(CH10/10)
1. Concerning the Series and The Game

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Edain

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1st part of the 'Son of Elves and Men' series.

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Author: Etharei

*Applause for Halo Son, my beta-reader*

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Summary: 

Something strange is happening in Rivendell, and Estel has to face himself as he takes his first step into manhood and a destiny that would rule the fate of Middle-Earth 

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Featuring: Elrond, Elladan, Elrohir, Estel (a.k.a. Aragorn), Gilraen, *Ilitha

*OC (Original Character)

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Rating: R 

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Disclaimer: As hard as it is to believe, the beloved characters places and languages featured in this fanfic actually belongs to Tolkien. I am not making any profit out of this, choosing instead to write out of the sheer pleasure of entertaining others with my stories. Anyway, they're Tolkien's, and I'm only borrowing them for a little while, though Aragorn in particular will be a little worn out from all the stuff I put him through.

And please remember, this is _fan fiction_, written for fun and out of love for the stories and characters of JRR Tolkien's Middle-Earth. Not everyone has the same view on how things could have happened, so please don't flame me if you don't agree with my perspective. I try to keep in canon with the book, but obviously it is still _my_ view of events. If there are any major mistakes, I apologise in advance- please feel free to point out them out, though, and I'll see what I can do about them.

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Author's Notes: 

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Italics indicate thoughts

The languages used in 'real-life' by the characters are stated at the beginning of each section. 

Set more or less two years before Aragorn learns of his heritage. This is actually more of a prequel to _Estel Broniol_than a standalone story; it's also the first story of my series _'Son of Elves and Men'_. Though it's not necessary to read this before _Estel Broniol_, you'll understand some things better if you read them in order.

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To AfterEver: Hope you're still out there, my friend! Very much looking forward to your thorough and excellent reviews.

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Introduction to the Series

The_ Son of Elves and Men_ covers the years in which Aragorn Elessar learns important aspects of himself and prepares for his heritage and destiny. He is young, inexperienced, and is encountering the many evils of the world for the first time. I like to focus on his relationship with his family, especially Gilraen, who tends to be in the background in many of the stories I've read. I also look at how his upbringing amongst elves would have made him different from other men, though this will be more evident in later stories. And for those who like stories with them together, Legolas will come along eventually.

The very short list of stories in the series at the moment (in reading order):

Edain

Estel Broniol

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Introduction to The Game

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During one of my many re-readings of ROTK, a muse or five struck me as I finished the part where Gandalf and Pippin are in Minas Tirith and are talking about the upcoming war. I don't own a copy of the book myself, but if I remember correctly, the part I'm talking has Pippin muttering "A pawn, is it? But on the wrong chessboard" at the end. Apologies if I've misquoted, but hopefully you know what I'm referring to. 

Anyway, that got me thinking of all those times that Gandalf hinted at "other forces at work in this world" giving them a chance to win what would otherwise have been a lost war to begin with. There's even a mention of this in the FOTR movie, when the Fellowship is in Moria and Gandalf has a word with Frodo. This gave me the idea of writing a fic involving a very complex and intricate Game between members of a race greater than the elves: the Maia. The Game restricts the amount of power the 'Players' can use, and it centers around the element of Choice. The basic idea is that the lead 'pieces' or 'pawns' are very subtly manipulated by the opposing forces, but the Rules limit any interference to a bare minimum. At least, this is how it's supposed to be. When the stakes are high, however, the Players tend to get drastic. Essentially, it's the idea of Balance. When you do something, your opponent gets to do something that takes roughly the same amount of power and the same level of interference. But you can accumulate these 'Moves' as well; for example, your Opponent's many small, weak Moves may earn you a powerful Move if you let it accumulate. With this idea of Balance, try and see Gandalf's moves, because I tend to mention his Opponent's Moves but not his counter-Move.

And at a certain time in the Game, one of the Players may present his opponent's Key Piece with the Choice. This Choice must be made with the Piece's own free will. When this happens, the other side has a limited amount of time to present its own Piece with a Choice. The Game ends when the second Piece makes the Choice, and the Game can only be truly won if the Choice of both Pieces sides with one of the Players. Otherwise, it's a stalemate. So the main objective of both Players is to manipulate all the Pieces (on both sides) into believing in them.

Though it is called the Game, keep in mind that it is actually a real battle for Middle-Earth. I know you are probably confused by now, but perhaps reading the fics will clarify things a little. 

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	2. Chapter One

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The Game Begins

[Language of the Istari]

The old man blinked. Storm clouds erupted above him, rain lashed down on the barren landscape. Certainly it was the place for a decrepit old mortal to be.

But he was no mortal, and most definitely not a decrepit. He had arrived in Middle-Earth at the beginning of the Third Age, when many had thought that the shadow upon the world had been vanquished, and their watch slept. He knew he would not leave until the end of his task, whether he succeeded or failed. Yet, with all the power at his disposal, the Maia still felt the stiff muscles and aching joints of the body given to him.

At that moment, however, Gandalf (as he was called around these parts) was troubled. He had known that Sauron of old had not been destroyed, and upon arriving on the shores of this land he had felt faint whispers of his malice. Elrond Peredhil had told him that Isildur had failed, and that the Ring of Power survived still, though none knew where it was. And lately Sauron's whisperings had grown stronger, more persuasive. 'Ere long he would show himself. And highest on Gandalf's list of suspects is the Necromancer in Dol Guldur. Yet Saruman the White had assured him that Sauron was 'harmless' as long as the One remained lost.

Sometimes he felt that Saruman was getting increasingly arrogant nowadays.

But it wasn't Saruman that he was concerned about, either. What bothered him was that he could feel another evil, another power adding his whispers to the winds. And now it challenged him. Forbidden to fight power with power (for such a battle would only tear apart the whole of Arda), the struggle for Middle-Earth had become an intricate board game, somewhat resembling draughts. They had their own intricate set of rules, the most prominent of which concerns the use of their 'pawns'. Gandalf didn't like thinking of them as thus, though, for unlike his opponents he had personally met many of his key 'pawns'.

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Who are you? Obviously, no reply came.

He had little choice but to accept. Gandalf had no doubt that this new player ultimately worked for Sauron, yet he wished he knew who the player was; it was easier to anticipate and counter the Enemy's moves if you knew whose hand was moving the pieces. And this new player had the advantage of knowing that it was Gandalf the Grey that he played against.

No matter now. The board had been set, and the pawns placed. In his mind's eye, the wizard saw fair Rivendell, and the crucial pieces he had there.

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The game begins.

Attend.

~*~

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[Sindarin]

Gilraen walked slowly through the living garden of Rivendell. Many elves took refuge in its cleansing beauty, and around her flowers bloomed with health and birds sang gladly. It was a place for healing.

But the beauty was lost on the woman. Reduced to a shadow of her former self by the death of her husband, Gilraen could only remember a time in her youth when the world was wondrous and she could still smell its sweet scent. It felt like those memories belonged to another one, from another time. Now, despite her youth, at times she would feel tired of life, weary of drawing the breath. Still, she had been a very stubborn young woman once, and though death came for all her race, she wasn't quite ready abandon the world of the living just yet.

"Ai!" A splash from a pond nearby got her attention, and she smiled. Elrohir grinned at her through his drenched and pond-weed filled hair. "Good afternoon, Gilraen!"

"Hello Elrohir. And Elladan," she added, spotting the older twin in the branches of a tree beside the pond. Elladan wore the exact same grin. "What are you two up to today?"

"Just… exploring the treetops," said Elrohir, getting out of the shallow pond.

"If you say so," she picked some of the pond-weed from the elf's hair. "Incidentally, I saw a flock of anxious elf-maidens scurrying around near the library. They seem to be wondering where Lord Elladan was. I had to convince your father that I would find you myself; he was ready to take them to the Bow to get some peace and quiet in the library."

Elladan grimaced. "Elbereth, why me?"

"There is a certain charm to being the married to the heir of Elrond of Rivendell," said Elrohir. "I am sorry to disappoint you, brother, but you aren't that good looking."

"I know, I only have to look at you to know."

"Elflings," Gilraen had a warning note in her voice. "I suggest you go to the Bow and stay there, for as soon as I get back to the House all the maidens in Rivendell will be scouring the Gardens for you."

The Bow was the brothers' favourite hideout, deep in the Rivendell woods amongst the higher trees. Gilraen didn't know where it was, but knew that if one couldn't find Elladan, Elrohir or Estel (and occasionally Glorfindel), they would be there. She suspected that Elrond had his own hideout, known only to him and Erestor, for the two elves were capable of disappearing for hours on end.

"Thank you, Gilraen," the twins beamed at her, before dashing off to their hideout. At one point in her 17 years of living in Rivendell, Gilraen had taken it upon herself to look out for the twins' well-being. Not that they really needed a substitute mother, but she was of the opinion that an all-male household virtually invited disaster. And as much as they missed their mother, the twins welcomed her ministrations. 

"Just be back for dinner, or your father will have your hides!" she called after them. It had been a bit awkward at first when she was new-come to the Peredhil family, but over time she had become part of the picture, like a favourite aunt. 

She turned her thoughts to Estel. Sadly, she knew that her son would always see his father as Elrond, not Arathorn. In almost every sense of the word, he _was_ Elrond's son. In time the elf lord would tell him his heritage, and give him the name Arathorn and Gilraen had given him at birth, but to his dying day, in his heart, he would always be Estel, son of Elrond Peredhil. Gilraen had known her son's destiny the day he was born, her foresight warning her of the dark road before him, and the fact that ere long she would no longer be beside him.

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Arathorn, you would have been proud of him.

~*~

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[Westron]

"You understand what you have to do?"

"Yes, my Lord."

"You know the price of failure."

"Yes, my Lord."

"Remember, it is the heir that I want dead. Do not fail me."

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	3. Chapter Two

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Chapter Two

[Westron]

The setting sun convinced Estel that he had found enough herbs for the day, as well some particularly interesting plants that Elrohir had requested- he had thought it better not to ask what they were for. He was just turning back towards home, taking his time as he enjoyed being in the woods of his beloved home, when he heard a cry of help somewhere in the woods. Following his ears, he quickly but quietly crept towards the direction of the sounds. Soon he came upon an overgrown thorny bush, with a battered-looking woman entangled in it. She saw him, and after a moment of hesitation her eyes pleaded for him to help.

Unsheathing a knife from his belt, he carefully cut off parts of the bush that had caught onto the woman and her clothes. At last she was free, and she looked at him fearfully, her meek eyes darting from his face to the blade in his hand. He quickly re-sheathed the knife.

"My Lord, thank you for coming to my aid," she stammered, obviously very afraid of this Man clad in elven garments.

"It is quite all right," he said, not sure how to allay the woman's fears. There was a strange glazed look in her eyes that bothered him somewhat, though he wasn't sure why. Perhaps she had a concussion of sorts; at the moment it was her physical injuries that concerned him, with night not too far away. "You are injured, dear lady. Would you come with me to my father's home?" 

She appeared uncertain, but her cuts and bruises seemed to make up her mind for her. She spoke uncertainly though. "If it is no trouble, my Lord."

"None at all. My father will be happy to heal you." He decided that telling her who his father was would not aid in convincing her to go with him. Gently he took an arm, careful not to touch the lashes there. His first guess was that it was orc work, but he knew that a healer's first priority was to get a patient into a safer environment before any questioning took place, unless said patient had something urgent to say. In the fading light the woman stumbled over hidden roots and rocks, but Estel knew the woods of his home, and held her so she did not fall.

~*~

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[Sindarin]

Estel's decision to withhold the identity of his father proved to be wise. Ilitha, as she said her name was, looked ready to fall and kiss the elf lord's feet (much to the Elrond's horror, and Glorfindel's amusement) had Estel not kept his hold on her. Finally Elrond had ushered her into a ward in the Halls of Healing and had seen to her injuries before the stars had come out fully. Now she was reportedly sound asleep, and the Peredhil extended family settled in the sitting room… The room was situated in the section of the Last Homely House that was the private domain of the Peredhel family, and there the members of said family could find a brief respite from the other inhabitants of Rivendell. The room was furnished for comfort, and the little odds and ends that decorated the place gave it a sense of home. A balcony looked out towards the river and allowed a clear view of the stars. 

At the moment the room had more occupants than it had for many months. Elrond sat in the most comfortable chair -his sons had all experienced the punishment for being caught occupying that space- near the fire, a map lying forgotten on his lap. Elladan, Elrohir and Estel were on couches in one corner, talking excitedly in hushed voices that basically hung a sgn around them saying 'Up to some mischief'. Even Gilraen was there, sat near the window with a balcony, reading a scroll in the soft music of water over stone. Glorfindel sat next to her, intently repairing a pair of leather gloves.

"So, Estel, I hear you brought in an injured woman today," Gilraen asked the young Man, putting aside her scroll. Estel looked up from his discussion with the twins. "Is she well?"

"Ada says she is, Ammë," Estel pointedly ignored the curious looks of his brothers. 

"Aye, she will be well in a few days," Elrond agreed. "She was waylaid by orcs on her way to Bree, and ran without knowing where she was going. Thus she ended up in our woods."

"Or so she says," Gilraen said softly. Estel looked at her sharply, but as always, her face betrayed none of her feelings. He was sure he detected a hint of suspicion in her eyes though. And Estel had learned a long time ago that Gilraen was most acute in detecting things even his father failed to notice. 

"Ada, would you believe that I got another marriage proposal today," Elrohir suddenly complained, before Estel could comment on his mother's words.

Glorfindel grinned. "Shouldn't you be flattered, 'Rohir?"

The younger twin grimaced. "Not really. Especially since most of them seem to think I'm Elladan."

Estel, Elladan and Glorfindel burst out laughing. Even Elrond chuckled. "Why do you think I insist on you two dressing alike when we have guests? If we are fortunate, someone will mistake you for your brother and marry you before you know it. Otherwise I may have to put up with a bachelor son for all the Ages of Middle-Earth." That called for another round of laughter.

After several more rounds of friendly banter, an unseen signal seemed to pass between the brothers, and together they stood up and said their goodnights. Looking extremely concerned for the welfare of some new swords that had attracted the brothers' unhealthy attention, Glorfindel followed them out, leaving Elrond alone with Gilraen in the sitting room.

Elrond remembered the first few years of Gilraen and Estel's stay in Imladris. Though the elf lord had gotten along well with the boy eventually, there had always been a sort of uneasy tension between him and Gilraen. The young woman had loved her husband with all her being, and his death had cast a shadow on her. He could see that shadow in her eyes, the darkness over her soul, and recognised a similar shadow lay buried in his heart.

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But with hope I will see Celebrian again before the end. But it was no consolation, and did not make his loss any less than the human woman's. She would not see Arathorn until she left this world, and he had lived for centuries without Celebrian, yearning for when he, too, would depart, though on another Road.

He was suddenly aware that Gilraen was staring at him. Over the years he had grown used to her presence, and had resolved to bridge the barrier between them. He thought he understood her predicament; after all, he had taken away her son, the closest to Arathorn she would ever get to now. 

Her eyes remained on him, studying him intently. Elrond, son of Eärendil, adopted son of Gil-Galad, Lord of Imladris, whose legendary patience was said to be able to outlast Caradhras, shifted uneasily in his seat.

"What ails you, Gilraen?" he said finally, unable to take the heavy silence any longer.

"You no longer wear your Ring," she said simply.

Elrond froze. Only a precious few in Rivendell knew that one of the Three was borne by the Lord of Imladris, and the fact that she had noticed that he was no longer wearing it…

"How long have you known?" he asked, giving up his pretence at reading.

"Years," she answered, meeting his gaze. "As you know, I have the gift of the foresight of the Dùnedain, and in one vision I saw one of the Three in Imladris. I studied some of your scrolls until I was sure."

He nodded. She had told him of her gift; similar to his own, as it had descended from his brother Elros to his people. "But how could you tell I no longer wear it? Even amongst the elves, only other Ring-bearers can see it, or one who has seen the He who made the One."

She smiled grimly. "I am neither, yet this I could see. And now… I can sense the Dark Lord's presence the world, Elrond. He grows ever curious, scouring Middle-Earth for the heir of Isildur, the last of the remnant of the proud Men of Westernesse. Perhaps it is because of my gift that I can feel him, but his malice is ever in my mind."

Elrond wondered at this new information, and, not for the first time, experienced a feeling that Gilraen was more than just a simple widowed woman looking after her son. But before he could say another word, she rose, bade him good-night, and left.

~*~

"'Adan?"

"Yes?" came the reply out of Estel's balcony.

"When will the guests be leaving?"

"Tomorrow evening. Why do you ask?"

"Because, as bad as my mortal hearing is, I can still tell when you and Elrohir are hiding in my room. Or dangling outside of it, for that matter. The noise is keeping me awake. Why do you not just come in and sleep here?" Estel opened his eyes. He really didn't feel like getting out of bed, so he simply stared at the ceiling.

"Apologies, little brother. We really didn't want to wake you. And as you so kindly offered, we will reside in your chambers for the night."

He heard the older twin climb onto his balcony and call softly to Elrohir. "You wouldn't believe the length some of those maidens go to! It was by mere fortune that last night I decided to explore the outer walls of the House. I was hiding underneath Erestor's balcony when I saw a maiden approach my balcony with a rope. She had a hawk with her, who flew up and tied the end of a rope to my balcony so she could climb up!" Elladan made a small sound of disgust.

"Life has certainly been a lot more interesting with all the she-elves around," Estel said with a smile. The other day, he had found an arrow on his balcony with the message "Meet me at the Falls." Elrohir had found it hilarious, and had teased his brother for hours.

"Perhaps one of these days one would fall for you, little brother, and give us a rest," Elrohir teased softly as he swung up onto Estel's balcony.

"And I would beat Glorfindel one the Logs," Estel replied. The Logs was one of the different terrain used in the training ground to simulate fighting on treetops or logs on water.

As he lay there, Estel's thoughts turned to other things. For some strange reason, he was… uneasy. He didn't feel that anything was wrong, but something wasn't _right_. He tried pinning it down, but all he determined was that it had started sometime that day. Perhaps it had something to do with the woman.

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Nonsense. You are only getting paranoid. All is well.

Sleepily, he nodded and closed his eyes. Elladan, seeing this, smiled and sang a soft, soothing song that Estel remembered from his childhood. So, in his very content state of mind, he hadn't realised that his last thought wasn't his own, and only a few seconds before he had been wide awake.

~*~

Ilitha couldn't escape him. Even when she was awake, he was always there, whispering and guiding her actions. Controlling her, actually, in every sense of the word. She knew she was but a mere vessel, carrying his thought and doing his deeds. If he wanted he could take complete control of her, body and mind. He had broken her a long time ago.

She still remembered pieces of her old life. Remembered freedom, love. Family. Only pieces, but enough to know that she would dearly love to have such things again. He had promised to give her them, but she didn't trust him now. He had promised a great many things before.

So all she felt was the everlasting sting of regret. Regret at not seeing her children again. Her family thought her dead, and in a way she was. She knew that she would never have her old life again. Knew that her despair only gave the Betrayer a greater hold on her. She had no reason to resist him, no reason to care about his victims. 

Except that she still had her heart. He even had control over her emotions, for his words were cunning and poisonous. But it took a long time to corrupt a simple woman with a simple heart, and she could still feel joy at odd times, when the Betrayer could not decide on whether to make her feel angry, or jealous, or mix of both. Not enough to threaten his hold on her, of course, yet it kept her sane.

He was whispering instructions to her now. "Gain their trust first. Do not rouse any suspicions, you understand? I shall make your injuries heal slowly, so you have more time."

Though she didn't dare ask, her mind wondered why he couldn't do it. In the past he had simply taken complete control of her when the mission was important. And he had made it clear to her that this mission was very important.

As if he could guess her thoughts, he said, "I have my reason for doing things. Just do as you must, and all will be well."

She obeyed. She always obeyed. But that didn't stop her from thinking.
    
    ~*~*~


	4. Chapter Three

_Author's Notes: Celestel the telpe vende, Shlee Verde, and Insomniac Luddite, thank you for your kind words! I apologise for the rushed pace of this fic, but it is part of the effect. The next chapters are definitely going to be a whirlwind, as I feel that the reader should feel some of the confusion that the characters are feeling. Anyways, enjoy!_

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Chapter Three 

[Westron]

"Isn't this a little dangerous?" Ilitha asked apprehensively, as she peered over the edge of the cliff. The distance of the ground below (not that she could see it, thankfully, as there were treetops in the way) sent a shiver down her spine, but the sons of Elrond simply shrugged.

"Do not worry, we have traveled here many times," one of the twins said. To prove his point, he balanced precariously on a rock jutting out of the edge. Ilitha thought she could feel her skin turn green.

Estel laughed at the sickened expression on her face. "Do not worry. Elrohir knows what he is doing, and we do come here often."

It was Ilitha's second week of stay, and she was on the mend, though not as quickly as Elrond had expected. Obviously Betrayer was taking steps. The elf lord was baffled at her slow progress, and undoubtedly worried if there was something he had missed that was hindering the healing process. Still, he now encouraged her to go outside as often as she could, and his sons have taken it upon themselves to show her their home.

Today they wanted to show her 'something', which was why she was battling a phobia of heights as she ascended the steep path. She had to admit that the elven realm was very beautiful, a blooming garden of life and colour. Men had often complained bitterly that elves and dwarves plundered wealth from honest folk, yet Ilitha saw nothing of the kind. Though she did not doubt that Rivendell had a great store of wealth, its main treasure was obviously the life and people within her borders. There was something… healing… about a land tended by elves, for mortal mind and body. Sometimes she would even let herself imagine that staying there for a long time would eventually heal those deep scars in her soul, scars on which Betrayer had so greedily attached himself to.

"Finally, we are here!" the other twin- Elladan- announced as the path turned. She looked up, and gasped. 

In a small open cavern, flowed the smallest of waterfalls, hidden somewhere in the cliffs around the valley, surrounded by flowers and greenery. The sunlight made the water glitter, as if a thousand gems were beneath the surface. Birds sang as they perched on the lone tree some distance away from the stream flowing from the waterfall.

"It is beautiful," she breathed. "Thank you for bringing me here."

One of the twins (she had given up trying to tell which was which) smiled. "Our pleasure, Ilitha. Orcs afflict more than physical wounds on their victims. We only hope to help you heal, and this place was the easiest of many to reach. Such beauty can only make one wonder why anyone would betray life over wealth and power."

Ilitha wondered if the elves could read her mind. And she had caught something else in the tall elf's voice. _Someone dear to them had been taken by orcs, once. Their scars are buried deep. But not deep enough._

She was startled to hear Betrayer so strongly in her mind. Reality came crashing back down, though she had desperately wanted to stay in the happy dream of rest and peace offered by the little paradise the sons of Elrond had brought her to. 

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I hate you. I hate what you've made me into.

But you'll still do what I tell you to, won't you, my little one? 

~*~

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[Language of the Istari]

The figure robed in white decided that he despised Mithrandir's mystery pawns. The Grey fool had them everywhere, even in carefully-chosen Rivendell. Such pieces put him in a state bordering on paranoia, as he could not anticipate the next move. He despised not knowing the next move.

Who was that woman? Her name, Gilraen, identified her as either Gondorian or one of the wandering remnants of lost Arnor. Whichever was the case, what was her purpose in Imladris? And more importantly, what influence did she have on Elrond? 

He had his suspicions, of course. Estel, the adopted human who was crucial to his plans, gave him a clue, as Gilraen had been confirmed as the boy's mother. Hmmm…

There was a definite kinship between the boy and Elrond. If stood besides Elrond's twin sons, mortal eyes could easily mistake Estel as their real brother. The boy had told Ilitha that Gilraen's husband had been killed by orcs. Distraught, the woman had sought refuge and counsel in Rivendell, where Lord Elrond had adopted her son out of kindness. But perhaps… he laughed. Perhaps he had been complicating things.

Estel resembled the Peredhil too much to be simply an 'adopted' child. 

Perhaps the answer to this little riddle was very simple indeed, though unexpected from one of the noble Eldar. Yes, yes, that was the secret all those fools had been trying to hide. He had been wondering at that for some time now, especially when the Master had inquired about it. And Gandalf had known about it! It seemed the old fool still had many tricks in his hat. 

He wanted to laugh, and settled for a soft chuckle.

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So, Elrond, your whore bore you a son, and to save face you 'adopted' him. This should make an interesting shift of my plans…

~*~

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[Sindarin]

Something was wrong. She could feel it in the air, a silent menace, searching, seeking… something. 

Gilraen had lived most of her life around people who thought her helpless and vulnerable. Even Arathorn, though her own skill with a throwing knife bested his. Perhaps it had something to do with her physical appearance: she was small, with delicate-looking skin and pretty eyes. And for her first few years in Rivendell she had retreated into a shell, becoming quiet and reclusive. She was coming out of it now, but it seemed as if every elf in Imladris feared to speak too loudly around her for fear that she might break. At least the twins had stopped being her guards, after a fashion, though it involved a lot of blunt comments on her part. But persuading everyone else that she was not made of thin glass might become a life-long effort, and she wasn't sure she would succeed in the end, elves being what they were. 

One thing that she knew separated her from most others of her own race was her gift of foresight, and something bordering on elven-sense that alerted her when evil was near. It wasn't even as precise as that, actually; in this case, for instance, she knew that _something _was wrong, but deciphering what was up to her.

It had something to do with the woman, Ilitha. She hadn't really caused trouble, or had done anything out of the ordinary, but Gilraen's 'bad feelings' had begun the day she arrived. And it frustrated her that she couldn't tell this to anyone; Elrond and the twins certainly wouldn't listen, for they had a deep sympathy for anyone victimised by orcs, and Estel would simply assure her that she may have only been having a bad day, or perhaps she was sensing something else entirely. The large number of wolves outside Rivendell's borders, perhaps? No, they would not listen, and there was little point in telling anyone else.

Perhaps she could be mistaken. It _was_ quite heartless, being suspicious of a poor woman who had been waylaid by orcs. What if she was wrong? And in any case, she couldn't really accuse the woman of anything; after all, it was only 16 years ago that she, soaked to the bone, had been escorted out of her home with Arathorn with Estel in her arms and taken to the House of Elrond, to await what future held for her. She remembered well the suspicions of many of the elves, and knew now how they must have felt. It was easier to be suspicious of a stranger than of someone you knew.

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What is this? What is it after? She almost kicked a nearby vase in frustration. What was the point of having this sense if she couldn't interpret it?

But though her foresight hadn't warned her of what would happen to Arathorn, her other elven-sense did. She had been most reluctant to let him go on that raid. 20 years ago, she would have doubted her heart's warnings. 16 years ago, she did, and paid the price. Never again. ~*~ __

[Sindarin]

First he went to the library. Then he tried concocting a particularly complex potion in the Healing Halls. Then he went to sit in his private garden. 

But try as he might, Elrond couldn't dispel the bad feeling in his stomach. Neither could he pinpoint what it was, though not for lack of trying. Glorfindel had been sending him worried looks all day, but the elf lord was in no mood to banter with his old friend. He really did not like being ill at ease because of an elusive problem.

Perhaps he would talk to Gilraen later on. The woman was strangely perceptive even for one of the Dùnedain. At the moment though, his mind was strangely cloudy. He tried to concentrate, but… strange. One moment it was as if a fog had entered his mind, and the next his thoughts were as coherent as they had ever been. The feeling of unease had also gone.

It suddenly occurred to him that it was time for dinner. 

__

We should have wine tonight, to celebrate Ilitha's recovery.

So Elrond returned to the House, happily humming a tune that had not been heard in Middle-Earth since the beginning of the First Age.

~*~*~


	5. Chapter Four

**__**

Chapter Four

[Westron]

Ilitha couldn't help feeling a stab of guilt for what she was about to do. The elves had been so kind to her, and she was about to destroy their family.

For the price of her own.

Not that she had a choice, really. But she wished she could do something to make Betrayer's job a bit more difficult. Not enough to warrant his wrath on her family, of course. But hurt to herself she could endure.

The tempting smells wafting from that night's dinner were barely registered by her numbed brain. She clutched the green vial in her hand, staring apprehensively at the silver goblets on the tray that was meant for Lord Elrond and his family. One of the goblets had a minute scratch near the rim, marking it as the one she was to put the poison in. Her hands shook as Betrayer whispered steadily into her mind. 

Still she could not move.

~*~

__

[Language of the Istari]

Gandalf was slightly taken aback at the amount of power his still-unknown opponent was using. He was much stronger than the Grey wizard, and had obviously planned every move meticulously.

But the Istar always had a wild card or two up his sleeve. They had won him many a game in the past, and he now had one advantage over his opponent: trust. Unlike the powers of the darkness, Gandalf personally knew the pieces on his board, accounting them friends dear to his heart, instead of pawns for his game. He knew their hearts, their natures, and knew what they would do in a given situation. Well, most of the time. As a result, Gandalf didn't need to exert himself manipulating them, but used his energy instead to protect them as best as they could. After all, he had been sent only to guide, not govern, and in the end it would be his pieces that would decide the fate of Middle-Earth, and would have control of it when he left.

__

My, my, he certainly is breaking a few rules, to say the least. His opponent would definitely suffer the penalties later on; the Game had a life of its own, and strictly adhered the players to its obscure Rules.

At the moment though, Gandalf took advantage of the momentary suspension of the restrictions on him. It was the break that he was looking for. The Game was fair, and as the hidden player had broken the Rules, it now allowed Gandalf a small move that the other player could not see. So the Istar decided to turn the tables, and use his Enemy's tactics against him.

It was a gamble. For a brief moment, he was in the tortured mind of his opponent's key Piece, the Mover of events, the Game called them. Truly a gamble, but his years of living with mortals have taught him the power of a single soul when it is allowed to change fate. His opponent wouldn't suspect it, wouldn't know until it was too late. Murmuring the ancient verse, he offered Ilitha the Choice.

"Your mind is free for this moment," he whispered to her. "Look before you, and choose."

She would not remember her choice, or even having to make one. The thought was little more than a whisper, a faint memory of hope to a soul stripped of life. 

It was enough. 

~*~

__

[Westron]

The vile poison dripped into the goblet. 

The elf, Harnannen, stood watch nearby. She- or rather, Betrayer- had assured him that it would only make its victim sick for a while. He was one of Betrayer's many spies, or so Ilitha could determine. But she wondered if he knew for whom he was truly spying for. Deceit was Betrayer's best weapon. She remembered that his words had sounded fair and wise to her, once. It was Betrayer's way, and the reason for her name for him. His voice seduced the soul, offering fair wisdom and seemingly wise counsel, and in the end you would discover that you were completely under his power. The worst part of it was that you had let him in; he had said once: "I cannot enter an unwilling soul." For her, it had been her desperation to save her children, so much so that she had been willing to sacrifice everything. 

In the end, she watched her son being beaten bloody by orcs, and left to the wolves. She saw the pain and hurt of betrayal in his eyes as he saw her stand there as he was ripped apart, not knowing her helplessness as she was trapped in her own body. That had broken her, and now she cannot even take her own life, for Betrayer had threatened to kill her other son if she did. And what of Harnannen? How did Betrayer reach his soul? It seemed that not even the immortal children of Eru were immune to the evils of the world. Perhaps the Shadow was truly winning…

__

Nay, it will not win me completely. I will not surrender yet. 

As she exited the kitchens, Harnannen closing the door behind her, from the corner of her eye she saw Estel watching them. Betrayer, exulting in a part of his plan being successful, didn't seem to notice. Another stab of guilt. Not only will Lord Elrond suffer the loss of his eldest son that night, but will have to condemn another of treason, and possibly death. Harnannen was to see to that.

__

I'm so sorry.

~*~*~


	6. Chapter Five

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Disclaimer: Please see 'Concerning the Game'

Author's Notes: The following chapters are very chaotic, and it was my intention to let the reader feel some of the confusion that's running rampant around Rivendell at the time. So hopefully you can still follow the story, and if anyone's really confused, leave something in the Review and I'll explain it. It also looks as if I'll have to revise this fic at some point. Anyway, thank you for reading it so far, and enjoy!

****

Chapter Five

[Westron]

Trust the Betrayer to provide her with no escape route. Now he simply sat at the back of her head, only curious to see if she could escape the wrath of the elves. It didn't matter to him if he lost her; she had done her job. Ignoring his presence, she entered the stables warily. To her relief, she saw no one.

She had little time. Once the elves got over the shock of the murder and organised themselves, they would be after her with all the vengeance of their kind. The boy would point the way gladly; he had seen her with the vial. She remembered his accusing eyes on her just before she managed to sneak away in the chaos.

Or so she thought.

"Give me a good reason why I should not drive my sword through your heart," growled a figure behind her who had waited hidden in the shadows. She didn't need to turn around to guess who was under the dark hood; in any case, she could feel the tip of his blade pressing hard between her shoulder blades. Barely restrained anger simmered in his voice.

"I have none," she said weakly, her voice trembling. "Kill me now and be done with it. It is what I deserve."

Estel was silent for a moment. "Why? Why my brother? Or had it been intended for my father?" At the last question she feared the sword had broken skin.

Ilitha swallowed. He deserved what answers she could give him. Betrayer wouldn't let her say anything important anyway. "No. The poison was meant for the heir- and is only fatal to him."

Turned away from him, she did not see the widening of his eyes, and the flash of hope through his heart. Instead, she mistook his silence as a struggle to control his wrath. "Drive it through my heart, young one. No one will fault you for it, not even I. I would have done the same. And your law allows it also, does it not?'

The silence stretched, disturbed only by the restless wind in the trees. 

"Who do you work for, Ilitha? What has he taken from you that you hold so dear?"

In her surprise, she whirled around, knocking aside the sword. But Estel lowered it, his grey eyes instead boring a hole through her very soul. 

If she had one still.

"How did you know?" she whispered.

"It is in your face." Ilitha was sure that even Betrayer would have flinched from his gaze at that moment. "Ammë told me you look like a woman who has borne children, at least two. Whoever has you doing this, he has taken your children."

"Sons. One is gone." For some strange reason, Betrayer hadn't moved from the back of her mind. She had expected him to have taken control by now. He felt… occupied. "Who are you, young man? Who are you who sees what many cannot?"

Estel silently went into one of the stables, bridled and harnessed a horse. Ilitha knew that if she wanted to make a run for it, it would have been then. But what would she do once out of Rivendell? Betrayer had made it clear that she would have to make her own way back to him. "I am the son of Elrond, Lord of this realm. I order you to leave, and never return." He handed her the reins.

She could only stare at him incredulously. Surely he wasn't just letting her go? And providing a horse as well! Seeing her hesitation, he said uncertainly," I… cannot let the elves punish someone who acts only to save her family. Under normal circumstance, father would be sympathetic. He would help you retrieve your children, and punish my brother's true murderer."

"But now… I sense the taint of evil in fair Rivendell. The one who has imprisoned your soul has a strong and evil will, and it was I who let him in. I should have sensed the seed of evil you carried in you, that day I found you in the woods, but my guard had been down. The responsibility is mine." He gently lifted her small frame and placed her on the horse. She wanted to protest, but her mind was still refusing to accept the fact that he was helping her escape. "I know not what his purpose is, and I do not wish to question you, for he may break your mind. But the elves are angrier than I have ever seen them before, and I doubt they would hesitate to kill you with or without my father's consent."

"And what of you?" she found her voice again as he lad her horse outside. "What will they do to you once they find out you helped me escape."

"His life will be forfeit." A figure stepped out from the darkness beneath the trees, his sword gleaming in the torchlight.

"Noro lim, Are," Estel whispered to the horse. "Go Ilitha. Are will bear you out of our borders. Then tell her where to go. But pray do not take her all the way to your jailer's den- dismount from a distance that you can walk in a day. Now GO!"

As the horse cantered into the night, she heard the newcomer's voice say, "You know the penalty, Estel. Do not do this." 

So this was what it led to? Brother spilling blood of brother? She felt sick at what she had done. Her victim's twin and Estel faced each other. The last she saw of them was Estel dropping his weapon, and the elf's blade pressing against his throat.

~*~ 

__

[Sindarin]

"Why, Estel? She murdered our brother! Does that mean nothing to you?" He thought his heart would break. His mind screamed at him, screaming to chase after the woman and take his vengeance. He had steeled himself for it, but now… He was no stranger to inflicting the final blow. But law it may be, it was an act no less than the Kinslaying so long ago, no matter of which race was the blood spilt.

"She is innocent, Elladan." Estel seemed… resigned. His youthful grey eyes were tired now, and had lost their usual twinkle. "Will you have me kill and innocent? Something is amiss. I cannot think, I cannot breathe without a shadow of doubt hanging over my mind. Am I the only one who can sense the evil in our home now?"

"You sense evil, do you? And I wonder who had let such an evil in!" Elladan lashed out, unable to hold back his anger. For some reason Estel's soft words angered him. "The weakness of Men! Perhaps Harnannen was right. Who are you to point fingers at us, _mortal_, when the evil comes from you! Because of you, my brother is dead. One mortal's life for an immortal elf, a son of the house of Eärendil! Nay, if there is a shadow, it is in _you_!" 
    
    Pain lanced through the human's eyes, but Elladan was too caught up in rage to care. It was so easy… all he needed was to push to blade deep, or swing his arm. Then it would be over, and his need for vengeance sated.
    

Except… he couldn't do it. His hand froze one his weapon. He needed to do it, whilst his anger pulsed through him, before he could think about what he must do. _Push. Slice. _

Kill.

At that moment Harnannen appeared beside Elladan. Seeing Estel, his mouth twisted into a triumphant smile. "You! I knew you were up to no good, Adan!"

Something snapped inside of the eldest son of Elrond then. In the blink of an eye he backhanded the elf warrior, bringing Harnannen down without a sound. His mind was clear. And he saw what he had been about to do. For a long moment he could only gape in horror at the sword in his hand, pressing so hard against Estel's throat that he thought he could feel the boy's wild pulse. Then the sword dropped from his numb fingers, and he fell to his knees, sobbing.

__

Ai, Elbereth, what is happening to us?

"I am so, so sorry, Estel."

He trembled uncontrollably. He had almost killed his younger brother. Fear, disgust, and utter horror washed through him. His brother, perhaps not of blood but of something stronger than blood. The one he had pledged to protect, in honor of his father's brother Elros, the day Estel had entered into their homes. He had never believed that he would ever want to kill the boy. 

Then again, he had never imagined he would lose his twin, either.

Estel knelt in front of him, cupping his hands around the elf's. "Run, Estel," Elladan whispered. "I… do not understand what is happening here. But whatever evil is at work has done his work too well. Half of Imladris is convinced that it was you who poisoned Elrohir. I do not understand, but I fear they would kill you the moment they lay eyes on you." He kissed Estel's brow. "Go. I shall tell all that you overpowered us, and escaped with Ilitha. Harnannen would be too happy to have you gone to care much; besides, it would be my word against his." He would never see his brother again, would never know if the human was injured, or ill, or when he eventually would die. But at least he could imagine that Estel was safe and alive, away from the evil that had consumed Rivendell.

"I know not what is happening, Elladan." Estel's steady grey eyes met his. Elladan's heart broke as he saw that the boy had taken his cruel words to heart. "But I will not run. What is there for me outside Imladris? This is my home, and my heart will forever dwell here."

"But if you come back with me… Estel, I heard father declare death to all who aided the murderer. Normally I would not believe he would mean to carry this out, but tonight… I do not know. I am afraid, Estel. I do not know what is happening." Normally Elladan would not even consider the fact that his father was serious with the threat, yet after what he himself had almost done…

"I know. I am afraid, too." Estel helped him up. Elladan wondered if he would ever be freed from the memory of what he had just been about to do. His hands only shook harder. "I will not come back with you."

"But-" Estel held up a silencing hand. 

"Worry no longer, Elladan." Estel clenched his fist and touched Elladan's brow with his thumb- a warrior's way of wishing good fortune. "Farewell, brother."

Before Elladan could say a word, the human sprinted into the darkness.

~*~*~


	7. Chapter Six

**__**

Chapter Six

[Sindarin]

The darkness if his familiar home taunted him. Sweat and tears mingled on his face, and the cold metal of his dagger felt the irregular beatings of his heart beneath it. And all he could see now was his family. 

He saw Elrohir, putting the rim of the goblet to his lips and drinking. His horror as the elf went deathly pale and fell to the floor in convulsions. Then the memory of Ilitha, sneaking out of the kitchens with a strange vial in her hand, had sent him running from the dining hall in a fury, before he could tell anyone of his suspicions, hearing only the cries of "Murder! Treason!" from the elf-warriors in the Hall.

Then he had confronted her, but could not bring himself to be the cause of her death. It was Man's weakness, he knew. Even in his fury he could not kill her, because she was innocent, susceptible to the crooked whisperings of the dark powers of the world. Because she was human.

Because he was also human.

She had given him hope, at least. Obviously she thought that it was Elladan who she had poisoned, not Elrohir, and her words had suggested that anyone not the intended victim would survive the poisoning. Elladan's words made him anxious, but perhaps he had left the Hall just as Estel had, and only presumed that their brother was dead by now.

Their brother.

All his life Estel had been acutely aware of his shortcomings, and many elves in his adoptive father's domain took every opportunity to remind him of the frailties of mortality. Yet he had always hoped that as he came into manhood, they would come to accept him. For this reason he had studied and laboured and practiced his weapons, knowing that though he would never fully acquire the elven grace of his brothers, he would at least proudly stand his ground and fight beside them when time came for him to be journeying with the elf-warriors. And in a way, a substantial amount of elves had done so. The warriors under Elladan and Elrohir's commands all knew Estel, and respected him, treating him as one of their younger members. Though getting along with Estel wasn't quite a criteria the brothers chose their warriors with, their wrath at any disrespect for their youngest brother was legendary.

But through all his hard work, all the honing of his skills to perfection, he knew there was one weakness that still lingered in him. The one weakness that many elves scorn Men for, what had turned the Last Alliance into a "fruitless victory", as his father called it. It was his emotions, his inability to prevent his feelings from affecting his judgement. And now it had cost him everything.

__

Weakling. Human! Are you too weak to even take your own life?

Tears still fell down his face. Yet even in his deteriorating state he was sure-footed amongst the trees he had climbed more times that he could remember. He was on one of the branches of the Bow, where he liked to read scrolls whilst munching on food pilfered from the kitchens. Now he stood under the branches of a large tree, unable to see anything in the sheer darkness, the dagger gleaming in bit of moonlight between the gaps in the leaves. 

It was so easy. All he had to do was press down. _Just once, and it would be over tonight._

What will? His weary young mind asked.

__

The pain. The dry voice said. _Do you not want to be rid of it? Life has been pain, and will be pain until the day you finally die. Which can be now, if you so wish._

Yes, his mind agreed. _Yes, life has been full of pain._ But even as he thought this, memories rushed in. 

Elrohir giving him his first riding lesson and being more scared about the whole business than Estel was. The dubious looks on Elladan's face as he convinced the elf to teach him the sword when he could barely lift the weapon. Glorfindel putting him atop a tree when he was six summers' old and refusing to let him down again. Catching Erestor discreetly stealing an apple from the pantries. 

There was Mother. Ammëë. She had always been there, as far back as he could remember. Gentle but a force not to be trifled with, he thought her as wise as his father, though in a different kind of wisdom. She could tell whenever something was distressing him, and he had learned to heed her advice to the letter. But for some reason he saw her less and less now, and she seemed content to simply fade into the background.

And Ada. A powerful elf-lord, in whose eyes shone the light of the Trees as the children of Eärendil saw in the Silmaril which now lit the night sky, yet kind and compassionate to all, whatever their race. Grief had not hardened his heart, only given him wisdom, and even now Estel was still in awe of the one he had come to call Ada. He could not imagine any other, and for this he sent a silent apology to the man whom his mother still loved and who had given him life. But it was Elrond he remembered; coming into his room after every nightmare, him and Ammëë both. Whose own love of healing helped him discover the joy in growing and creating and cultivating, instead of destroying, as too many did. The one who almost bodily picked up an ambassador from Mirkwood and throw the elf out of a balcony when he commented that "the mortal brat was in his way", not realising who Estel was. 

"Yes, life is pain," He said thoughtfully. "But it is joy as well. And love. "

He blinked. The fog in his mind cleared. He suddenly realised that he wasn't sure how everything had come down to this, and _why_ he was standing under a tree in the middle of the woods- the Bow, he recognised now, he was under the Bow- with a knife to his heart.

Then he felt it. Or heard it. It was like a snake hissing, coming from all around him yet far away. It was in his mind, but he felt its breath on his skin. He sensed its malice, its desire for chaos, for pain, for anger. And it frightened him. He also knew with absolute certainty that it was this… _thing_,,, who was responsible for all that was happening in Rivendell. 

Everything became a terrifyingly clear. He remembered the glazed look in Ilitha's eyes when he first found her. He remembered the feeling of unrest in his stomach, yet he couldn't quite concentrate enough to pinpoint what it was. Now he could feel the residue of the barrier that had been in his mind, the presence that prevented him from suspecting anything was wrong, whispering to him as it constantly reminded him of the pain and loneliness of his childhood.

It laughed at him now. _So, you have a stronger mind than I thought, human_.

It startled Estel that it was addressing him directly. There was arrogance there, of one who did not expect to fail, and was not used to failure. _Who are you? What do you seek from us?_

It chuckled, and a chilling suspicion descended on Estel. It said nothing for a moment, then answered with a victorious note. _He does not even trust you, does he? But who would? A mortal is a weak thing, and could easily fall prey to lesser powers than me._

Not need to ask who 'he' was. _Enough, snake! You will not turn be against my own family, no matter how hard you try. So tell me what it is you seek or be gone!_ He was furious now. This was the one who wanted to kill Elladan, and obviously felt that he had succeeded. But there was also something else, something that such a one had gone to great lengths to obtain. What could Imladris have that his father hadn't told him?

__

Or what? It jeered at him. _But as you asked ever so nicely, I shall tell you. I seek Vilya, the Ring of Sapphire, one of the Three that my Master covets nearly as much as the One. I have reason to believe that your father has it in his possession._

A Ring of Power? But… Estel's mind raced through his lessons in the history of Middle-Earth. Yes, his father had told him about the Rings of Power that Celebrimbor made in Eregion, though Elrond did not seem to be willing to speak too much of them. It was entirely possible that he bore one himself, and Estel didn't begrudge his father for hiding it even from his own son. _I know not what you speak, snake, and I have lived here all my life. I know not of such a Ring in Imladris._

With that he turned to leave. Or tried to. But he couldn't move. His senses still worked, telling him that the night was cold, dark, and that a very sharp dagger was at that moment pointing down to his chest. But his muscles wouldn't obey him, flexing with a will of their own- or someone else's. Terrified, Estel felt the dagger pressing down harder, cutting the first layer of his cloth. He struggled against the invisible barrier in his mind, not really knowing what he was struggling against, but he was trapped.

__

Not so easy, is it, said the voice leisurely. _Can't have you running back and telling your dear father. Not that it would change much. You have been kind enough to let my pawn into your homes, and have given me ample time to strengthen my hold on your minds. Even for one such as Elrond, my control is as total as it is in you._

The dagger pressed down.

~*~

__

[Sindarin]

Gilraen was frustrated, confused and terrified. This didn't make a very pleasant combination in the Dùnadan, and anything that got in her way, living or otherwise, suffered the result. 

Several pieces of broken furniture later, she decided that she was calm enough for coherent thoughts. It worried her a little that her temper had gotten the better of her, as it had not done in many years, but at the moment she knew that more things were at stake than her sanity. She had not missed Estel's quick departure, followed by Elladan, and Elrohir being carted off to the Healing Halls by Elrond's healers. What had truly frightened her was the rage plainly written on his face, the elf lord whose infallibility was legendary. At the head of the table in the Dining Hall, he had stood and shouted "Treason! Death to any and all who took part in this! Search the grounds, and find the assassin. Death to any and all, I announce with my right as Lord of this realm! Treason!"

That had gone too far. But before her long strides could take her near the elf lord, he had disappeared down one corridor flanked by his guards. Elrond, who threatened to shave bald any guard who attempted to 'protect' him without his permission. Elrond, allowing other healers to tend to his son, lying pale and unmoving on the litter. Thus Gilraen could only reach a seemingly impossible but only reasonable conclusion: Elrond was not himself.

Another time she would have questioned her sanity for even considering the possibility that something could… _possess_ someone, especially if that someone was Elrond son of Eärendil. But upon hearing Elrond's proclamation, she had been taken by a rage so great it had frightened her into retreating into her empty chambers to calm down. Experience had taught her that putting an Elrond and a Gilraen in the same room together with both temperaments high would probably result on a large crater on this side of the Misty Mountains. Now, relatively calmer, she was faced with the challenge of freeing the Lord of Imladris from whatever dark sorcery he had been put under.

Foresight, as her people and the elves call it, was for Gilraen a random, unpleasant and generally unwelcomed experience. And it struck just as the she felt her calm center take control again. A very brief sequence of images flashed before her eyes. She had been getting them more often recently, and had acquired the ability to tell which ones were definite, unchangeable events, which ones were possible outcomes, and consequently the order in which the events must happen in order to get the desired result.

Hitching up the skirt of her dress, she resolutely headed for her balcony. She knew where Elrond would be, and predicted that in his condition he would have locked the door. Years of exposure to the Peredhil twins had taught her many useful skills, as well as a very thorough knowledge of the hundred or so balconies of the House, and navigating from the outside.

Her mind thinking back over what she had been able to learn of Elves in the piles of scrollsin the library of Rivendell, she headed towards Elrond's study.

~*~*~


	8. Chapter Seven

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Author's Notes: 

Now, we've gotten to the part that gives this story its rating. Please note that I am trying to keep within ff.net's rules, but if this and the subsequent chapter prove to be troublesome, I'll simply amend the necessary bits. Also, please note that there is NO ROMANCE in this story. And if you think that the characters are acting out of role, there are a lot of things going around Rivendell that confuse one's thoughts. This, of course, is Black's intention (I'm calling him Black because in my mind the Game Board somewhat resembles a chess board, only multi-dimensional, and Gandalf plays White). Basically, the characters have every reason to be confused, and quite a few of them aren't in full control of themselves, as you will see. It's all part of the Game.

Also, I apologise in advance for those of you who will undoubtedly be shocked and outraged at some things that will happen. I know I'm pushing the boundaries of canon (actually, I might have gone over it), but in my mind this could still have been possible. Of the books I've read so far, these events are actually possible. Apologies anyway to those who object outright, or have read more books and know this is out of canon.

Oh, and don't worry, I'm fully intending to explain all this once the fic is finished. Not much left to go!

****

Chapter Seven

[Sindarin]

Elrond couldn't remember when he had ever felt so terrified before.

When he saw Elrohir fall to the floor in the Dining Hall, it was as if an ice fist had closed on his heart. A felt rage and fury that he had never experienced before, even after the Kinslaying at the Haven of Sirion and seeing his mother cast herself into the Sea. Losing control was very rarely a problem for him, much to the exasperation of other rulers. So he knew that the person issuing orders for the death of the assassin and all those involved, and had himself heading towards his study rather than following the litter bearing his son, could not be him. 

The full impact of his helplessness hit him when the study door locked behind him. It was as if a blanket had been put on his mind, and now it was removed he could feel that he had been pushed to the back of his brain, and that he had absolutely no control over any bodily function. It was a wonder he hadn't noticed it before; elves in particular were acutely sensitive to anything that tampered with the mind.

"An interesting night, wouldn't you say?" a dry voice very unlike his own came from his lips.

__

What do you want? As proof of his infallibility, even then Elrond's thought resembled that of a slight curiosity, though his predicament and how it came about was anything but. _Why my son?_

Chaos. Betrayal. Death. I glory in them, my dear elf. It spoke to him mind to mind now, yet Elrond was sure that though the voice controlled his body, his mind and thoughts were still very much his own. Unfortunately, both were a muddled mess at the moment, only further strengthening his fear. _Your loyal subjects are going to see you lose your mind, Lord Elrond. Lose it from grief over your heir's death, and that of your bastard half-human son. In less than a year great Imladris will fall. And in another, or five, perhaps even fair Lothlòrien will burn._

Though he could understand the being's intent, the rest of his words were a little too much for the alread-confused elf lord to process in one go. His _heir_? But it was _Elrohir_ who got poisoned. Perhaps this dark being didn't know which twin was which. It didn't matter, as Elrond did not care to lose any of his sons. Speaking of which… his bastard son? If he had control of his eyes, he would have blinked.

The voice mistook his silence for surprise. _Yes, I have discovered your little secret, o noble Lord of Imladris!_

Estel… no. Had he failed Isildur's Heir? His brother's people? _What do you mean?_

Do you think me simple? Do you think I would not see why you would keep a mortal woman under your personal protection? It chuckled. _I understand perfectly. I cannot think of a reason why you would 'adopt' her son, unless, of course, he _is_ yours.The perfect ruse, I must concede._

It had never occurred to Elrond that one's own thoughts could freeze as well as a body does. The voice thought that… that Gilraen was… that Estel truly was his son! He almost laughed in relief and the incredulous idea of it.

__

So it appears that elves aren't as noble as they say they are, the voice continued._ Worry not about it, Elrond. Such relations are somewhat acceptable amongst some mortals, and you did the woman courtesy of caring for her and your offspring. But I'm afraid the boy has to go as well._

And for some undecipherable reason, the powers that be chose that exact moment for Gilraen to swing onto the balcony of Elrond's study. Hearing her land with a soft thump, the being inhabiting the elf lord study turned to face the intruder. 

__

I do commend you on your choice, the voice sneered as he took in Gilraen's small frame. The tone of his thought sent a chill through Elrond's mind. _She is a very desirable woman._

Despite the highly inappropriate moment, a part of Elrond's mind had to concede. Gilraen had married young, and though her son was fast approaching manhood, her face still retained most of the beauty of her youth. The Dunédain lived long lives for their race, and for Gilraen, age and grief only sharpened her features, giving her eyes wisdom and strength. He was still reeling from the shock of what his possessor had said though, as well as slowly realising the full extent of some of his advisors' suspicious glances.

__

By the Valar, Gilraen, run! He threw out his thought, hoping that somehow she would hear it, receiving only a laugh from the voice. 

"Greetings, Gilraen," he heard his voice say with an undertone that only Celebrian had ever heard from him. He refused to even think about _those_ occasions.

Her eyes narrowed. "Elrond, something is amiss! Estel has gone!"

__

Gilraen, the one who you face is not I! Elrond felt like smashing something. He struggled vainly against the mental barrier that made him a prisoner of his own mind. _I am in here. Run!_

"Gilraen… It has been long, my dear." To his everlasting horror, he felt his mouth twist into a sneer as he stepped purposely towards the woman, his eyes sliding up and down her body. "Much has happened that I will require much… _comfort_ from you this night."

She blinked, and her eyes widened as she understood his intentions. But to Elrond's surprise, she ran not to the balcony or the door, but to his desk on one side of the room. _What is she doing?_

In a few strides his body had reached her as she stood behind the desk. She stared up at him, her eyes wide in terror and her lip quivering.

"But, Lord Elrond, you said… you said never again…" she stammered. Her hand reached into an open drawer and pulled out a dagger. "I shall not let you. You promised!"

__

What in the name of Elbereth-? There was something about that drawer that bothered him. He had hidden something there, but in his panic at the increasingly disastrous situation barred him from any sort of careful thinking._ What is she doing? Gilraen!_

A lustful sigh escaped his lips. "I am truly sorry, Gilraen," the voice growled.

Tears streaming down her face, Gilraen weakly jabbed at him with the dagger. The being controlling his body easily sidestepped the blade and knocked it out of her hand. She backed away from him, until she was pressed against the wall. And still his possessed body advanced, the voice chuckling in pleasure in his head.

__

This is a dream. It is not happening. It cannot happen.

Though he did not quite have a body of under his own control at that moment, Elrond felt a strong need to bring up his breakfast.

~*~

__

[Language of the Istari]

He trembled slightly, It was an effort to keep his iron-control over the Grey Wizard's Key Pieces, for both were strong of mind. He was also quickly revising his plan. He had originally intended to present his Choice to Elrond's heir, but he Gandalf had saved up his moves and blocked that Piece completely. It also seemed as if the fool had presented his Choice already, though he hadn't been aware of it.

_ He is more cunning than I thought._

No matter. He already had another plan in mind, though he only had a limited amount of time to put it into action. He _hated_ being hurried! Upon discovering that the one stricken with his poison was inaccesible, he had had to push Events, and this always brought the risk of one of the Pieces losing their sanity or doing something that would unravel all of his plans.

He definitely had to hurry things along though, so he decided that he could risk a bit of pain.

~*~

__

[Sindarin]

No! I do not_ want to die! _

A pity. But I fear you can do little to stop me..

The dagger was slowly reaching his skin through all the layers of cloth. Already he could feel it's razor-sharp edge closing in, despite his efforts. Estel struggled, beating at the barrier separating his mind from his body with all his might. But it refused to move.

__

Ready to surrender, yet, weakling? the voice taunted him.

Not stopping his mind's outward exertion to free himself, it occurred to Estel that the voice sounded a bit… strained, that time. And was it his imagination, or was the barrier giving way a little in some places. He tried pushing harder. Yes, it did move slightly. But what did it mean? Was he simply being tortured further with false hopes? Or did he truly have a chance to get free? The voice was not so strong in his head now, its tauntings less venomous. It was as if the presence was… occupied.

Then there was a weakness in the barrier. "Help! Ada, Elladan, HELP ME!!!" he managed to scream at the top of his lungs before the presence returned in full force in his mind, and Estel could feel its rage. A corner of his mind was pleased, for he knew that one of the dark being's plans had been thwarted.

He was pushed firmly to the back of his mind, losing what little control over his body that he had gained. He saw the fist with the dagger swing up, then down, and felt the cold blade enter his flesh.

~*~*~


	9. Chapter Eight

**__**

Chapter Eight

[Sindarin]

It has been some time since I've done this, so forgive me if I take my time about it.

No, you filthy beast! Let her go! _Gilraen!_ Elrond could only watch with horror as his body took one step, then another, approaching the poor woman. He had failed her, failed his sons, his people. How could he have let this happen?

"Come, my pretty one," he heard his voice growl.

Gilraen had shut her eyes, her fists clenched, apparently trying to control her breathing. But as Elrond felt his body take one more step towards her, her trembling ceased, her eyes opened, and she met him eye-to-eye, all pretense of fear gone.

"If you wish." He glimpsed the ghost of a smile on her lips before she leapt at him, sending them both crashing to the floor, and kissed him thoroughly.

~*~

__

[Sindarin]

Elladan didn't know where he was going. He didn't quite care either. His mind felt as if it was full of down. He couldn't be sure of _anything_. So it was a bit of a surprise to find himself facing the door to his father's study. Not knowing what else to do, he tried opening it.

Only to find it locked. He knocked, but then heard a crash as something impacted with the floor, and a muffled yell that was quickly cut off.

"Ada!" Alarmed now, he shouted for help., but for some reason the corridor was deserted. As this was the least unusual of all that had happened that night. He simply proceeded to slamming his body against the door, until he heard the wood crack and splinter. Finally, it gave way, and he crashed into the room.

And the scene before him was what he definitely had least expected.

~*~

__

[Sindarin]

At first, all the elf-lord could feel was Gilraen on top of him; the lavender scent of her hair, and the way she was kissing him very thoroughly. He also registered the fact that whoever had possessed him was now in such a state of shock that Elrond had a few precious seconds of control again.

It was enough.

The feel of the cold metal band slipping onto his finger was all he needed. The blue jewel didn't need his help in banishing the foreign spirit from his body, but Elrond added his own considerable will power all the same. As he felt the blue glow infuse him, however, Elrond couldn't help thinking of Gilraen in sheer reverence. One word resounded in his mind: _How?_

Soft elven song filled his ears, as it did every time he wielded Vilya's strength. The Ring recognised him, greeted him in its own silent way, and resolutely chased out the last vestiges of the spirit that had taken control of the Lord of Imladris. Yet even in his predicament he was mindful of using too much, lest he announce to the dark powers of the world the location of one of the Three.

Seeing the blue glow, Gilraen stopped kissing him, and grinned instead. He smiled back, but before he could thank her, or indeed before either could move, the door of his study collapsed in..

The next thing they saw was the pale, incredulous face of Elladan, lying atop the broken door, staring at them. It was then that Elrond became painfully aware of their predicament: he was still lying on the floor, Gilraen astride him, and basically the worst possible scenario for his clearly distraught son to find his father and brother's mother in. 

Without a word, Elladan got up, horrified, and had disappeared before elf or woman could say anything.

Embarrassed beyond belief, they were up in a heartbeat. "I fear there is much explaining to do," Elrond said, the warm comforting glow of Vilya not masking his crimson face. He made to go after Elladan. Gilraen, though her face was just as flushed, frowned and stopped him.

"Elrohir." 

Shocked that he had forgotten about his dying son, he was racing through the House, Gilraen right behind him, heading for the Healing Hall. But a messenger intercepted them just as they turned a corner.

"The healers have told me that Lord Elrohir will live, my Lord. It seems the poison, though it came near to claiming his life, is suddenly dissipating," said the elf, unconsciously stepping back as Elrond's fiery gaze settled on him. "The healers are at a loss to explain it. They request for your presence as soon as possible, my Lord." Elrond knew that though the elf couldn't see the Ring on his finger, the it emanated could be sensed by all nearby. Elves had described a feeling of immeasurable peace and tranquility when they were in the vicinity of Galadriel. The Three were different, of course, and as its bearer, Elrond could not himself feel Vilya's effect on others, but he remembered suddenly having clarity of thought, after long weary nights without sleep in the days of the Last Alliance, every time Gil-Galad was near him.

"Of course. Thank you, my good elf." The messenger bowed, and sprinted off. Elrond turned to say something to Gilraen when Vilya flashed, and the elf lord felt a jolt of pain through his ribs. 

"What is it, Elrond?" she asked, concerned, as he hissed in pain. The elf Ring, unused for so long, was very enthusiastically re-establishing its protective power over Elrond's realm, and now told him that the being who had possessed him had not been driven out fully.

__

"Help! Ada, Elladan, HELP ME!!!" He heard the cry as if Estel was next to him. An image of Estel, a dagger portruding from his chest as he lay still and pale on the ground, flashed before his eyes.

No… He had nearly lost Elrohir. He would _not_ lose Estel.

"Estel," he gasped. "The Bow, quickly! _He_ is still here, and he's trying to kill Estel!"

~*~

He didn't know where he was going. All he could think of was to run, run until he could run no longer. 

The oldest son of Elrond felt his head pound. Too much had happened this day, and he simply wanted to get as far away as possible until… he didn't know until when, but was certain that the only way to keep his sanity intact was to continue running.

After a while, though, something else was intruding into his already fragile mind. It whispered to him, urging, warning. There were no words, just the sense of urgency and dread that Elladan had come to identify as a warning that something was happening, and not to him but to someone else close to him. Who could it be?

Something bright drew his eyes to the clear night sky, seen through gaps between the trees. Gil-Estel; his grandfather on fair Vingilot.

__

Estel.

No reasoning would have been able to explain the source of the elf's knowledge. Somehow, he realised what the whispers were trying to tell him, and suddenly all the abstract notions of loyalty to the law fled from his mind. His feet changed direction, heading towards higher ground, then onto tree branches. Towards the Bow.

~*~

__

[Language of the Istari]

The Grey Wizard smiled. 

__

Well done, young elfling. 

The pace of the Game was quickening now as pieces and schemes fall into place. Soon, his opponent will present his Choice, and the Game will be decided.

~*~*~


	10. Chapter Nine

**__**

Chapter Nine

[Sindarin]

"Estel!"

Pain. Pain and darkness. Pain of the heart as well as the body, as every unpleasant memory from his childhood was brought up and paraded before him. At times it seemed that the pain of his soul was enough to obliterate him. He felt the tendrils of cold dark wrap tightly about him, choking him, as the hauntingly seductive voice called for him to surrender. The pain would end. Everything would be different, better.

He opened his eyes. He hadn't even realised they were closed. Something warm trickled down his stomach. But he had no strength left, no heart to look. He didn't know what he was doing on the ground. Dimly he recognised the pinpricks of light above him as stars. The shadow in his heart snarled at their light, and soon all that mattered was the pain.

He had to end it. He could not take anymore. He didn't even know why he didn't just give in.

Then his eyes fell on him.

A tall, lone figure, born to sail the heavens and bearer of the hope of the Two Kindreds. Somehow, somehow Estel could see him clear as day through the countless leagues, and his gaze was on Estel. Eärendil nodded to him, and he heard the Mariner's voice speak one word in his battered mind.

"Estel."

~*~

__

[Sindarin]

"Valar!" Elladan swore as he came upon the young human. His heart stopped.

Estel lay on the ground. He was writhing, eyes closed, mouth moving without a sound. In the starlight Elladan's keen elven eyes saw the hilt of a dagger embedded in Estel's chest, and the dark stain spreading through the tunic.

"ESTEL!!"

The next thing he was aware of was crying uncontrollably as he cradled Estel's limp form. The human's movements weakened with each second. There would be no way he could return to his father with Estel in time. His father…

He couldn't think. All he felt was guilt. And pain. It was torment, but he felt that it wasn't enough. Guilt, at not being able to protect his twin. At accusing Estel out of that guilt, and now losing him. Somehow even his father… and Gilraen… he didn't want to think about that, but somehow, it was his fault too.

"Estel. Estel." He had the idea that if he said his brother's name enough times, Estel would live. "Don't do this! I am sorry! It is my fault, all of it! Never will I speak a harsh word to you again! Just stay with me, please. Please… I cannot lose you. I cannot."

~*~

__

[Sindarin]

Elrond ran as fast as he had ever done since the days of his youth. It didn't seem fast enough. With Vilya on his finger he knew where Estel was, and Elladan was with him. 

His heart plummeted as he saw Elladan, rocking the limp form of Estel, crying and cursing at the same time. His eyes saw the dagger, the blood dripping onto the ground, the lack of movement. Half-afraid of what he will learn, and half-wary of Elladan's reaction to him, he approached.

Elladan's head snapped up. Tears flowed freely from his face, and his body was racked with sobs.

"He's no longer moving, Ada." Elladan's normally powerful baritone had been reduced to a weak whisper. "I found him, on the ground, and I … I… I couldn't do anything." Anguish filled his eyes, and the sobs began anew.

Elrond went cold. "Hush… let me see him." 

The elf-lord's trembling fingers went to the boy's throat, then to his nose and mouth. He searched, looking for a sign, something. Elrond didn't want to think, didn't want to register the cold facts before him.

Estel was not breathing. His heart had stopped beating.

~*~

__

[Sindarin]

He was fading. 

He could feel it. He knew it. He even felt regretful that he could not say a proper goodbye to his family.

Time stopped.

__

So, it is the Last Choice. It has been an interesting Game, has it not?

Most interesting. 

The perhaps we should end it.

As the Rules demand, so it shall be met.

Young one, the seductive voice was turning loose its full power on Estel. Though the pain did not return, the memory became very fresh indeed, and his heart quailed. _The Choice is before you._

Choose Life, or Death, but of your own free will. This was a different voice, older, more authoritative. . Suddenly he saw the thousands upon thousands of lives bound to his, and though his young mind could not understand fully what was happening to him, he nevertheless felt great responsibility for all those souls. He knew that he had to choose for _them_, not for himself.

But how could one choose? He did not have the foresight of his father, nor the wisdom that life brought. He had only seen 18 springs! Surely his death was required, for how can a lone mortal life bring anything but grief to so many? Men's hearts were weak, easily succumbed to evil in their almost innate desire for power. A terrible fear washed over him, for he realised that there were only two possible paths for him: to live and die in Rivendell as he is now, or to join the ranks of the dark powers, and rise as high as he could before treachery or greed felled him. And though he had no strong desire for power at that moment in his life, he recognised the dark potential within him, and wondered if perhaps one day being an oft-ignored adopted son of an elf-lord would not be enough for him.

Yet the Mariner had woken something within him, and in Eärendil's eyes Estel had seen also the strength of men. As if to balance the weakness of his body and mind, somewhere in his soul he knew that he desired very much to live. Despite his self-doubt and fear of the weakness within him, hope burned as brightly as Teplerion. Yes, he could end everything now. End the pain, and perhaps spare those lives of whatever torment he was capable of inflicting upon them. But… _he_ didn't want to die. And he hoped- oh how he hoped!- that perhaps he may be able to deny the potential for evil within him, when the time came. And perhaps, perhaps, one day, even help all those lives he saw bound to his fate.

In his mind he felt Eärendil smile. _Truly were you named_, he whispered in Estel's mind. _Though they do not always remember it, Men _can_ be strong. Many were in the days of old, held as equals by the Firstborn they stood beside. This, _you_ must not forget, Elessar. _He felt as if a gentle hand touched his brow_. I watch over you also, son of my son._ Then he was gone. 

But Estel would have smiled if he could. It mattered little now whether he actually lived or died, for he knew himself now, and was at peace.

"I choose life! Do you hear me?" He didn't know if he was actually shouting the words, or if it was all in his mind, but he put every last vestige of strength into them. "I will live with the pains and the joys, the nights and the days, and be glad for it. I _will not_ surrender to _you_, O Betrayer of Life. I choose willingly. I choose Life!"

~*~*~

He didn't know how long they spent there, in the leaf-covered ground beneath the tree with its oddly-shaped branches. He dimly remembered gently taking Estel into his arms and slowly making their way home, trying not to feel the boy's cold skin and what it meant. The world was grey, and the only music left to him was the irregular breathing of Elladan beside him.

Suddenly a bright light came from behind them. In wonder they turned, and saw the sun slowly raise herself, her warmth and radiance illuminating the valley as they came through between gaps in the rocky cliffs surrounding the valley. Dawn had crept up on them, and so deep in their grief were they that they hadn't noticed.

Then, wonder of all wonders, in the growing light Elrond saw the slightest of movement, barely a twinge from Estel's hand. He froze, not daring to hope, to check, in case the dark being was playing a cruel final trick on them. But then one hand slowly moved, just slightly, little more than a sudden jerk of the muscles. 

It came to rest on Elrond's finger. On Vilya.

"Elladan!" His eldest son was staring at Estel, having seen the movement. "Healers, now!" Without another word Elladan sprinted off towards the House, running as if all the Hounds of Angband were after him. Probably even faster than if the Hounds were after him.

__

My son.

Elrond's gaze shot up skyward, at the twinkling star, alone now in the morning sky. Then his gaze lowered again, and for a moment he saw a faint glow on Estel's brow. Trembling, he kissed his son where the light had been, and closed his eyes as relief, gratitude, and love swept over him.

"Thank you, Ada."

~*~*~


	11. Chapter Ten

**__**

Chapter Eleven

__

[Sindarin]

"What has happened here, Gilraen?" asked Elrond as he joined the woman sitting on the outcropping of rock, watching Estel, Elrohir and Elladan have a swim in the water below. The waterfall made the air cool and damp.

Gilraen's anxious eyes were fixed on Estel even as she nodded to acknowledge the elf lord's presence. "I do not know, Elrond. But whoever it was had very nearly succeeded."

"But succeeded in what, I wonder." He turned to her, and his penetrating gaze held hers. "You know more than you will speak of. Will you tell me more, Lady of the Dùnedain?"

For a long while Gilraen was silent. "He wished to cause chaos. To set brother against brother. A dark storm is brewing, and he does not want the elves and men re-united. And he wanted Vilya."

"How do you know this?"

"I see things as you do, Lord Peredhel. But we see different things, and this I saw just before I slipped the Ring onto your finger."

Elrond shifted positions on the rock. "Were you not tempted to put on the Ring yourself? It is an elf-Ring, untouched by Sauron, yet it is bound to the One, and though so far the One remains lost, it exists still, in some far corner of the world, and its power remains."

Gilraen smiled. "The moment I touched Vilya, my hand clutched it and refused to let go. I heard whispers, telling me that Estel was dying, and to save him I must put on the Ring. That unless I put on the Ring, you would die. It showed me Rivendell covered in darkness and flame, and all its fair folk bound in chains on their way to Barad-dûr. It seems that though foresight can be a gift, it can also turned against you."

Elrond's gaze returned sharply. "And you did not listen to the whisperings?"

"I wanted to." Her eyes were suddenly filled with an unspeakable loss. "The whispers even promised to return Arathorn to me. That was what made me give the Ring to you. I _will not_ dishonour his memory by surrendering what he had lived and died for."

"It was well you did." Elrond's voice became gentler. "Vilya was made for elves, Gilraen, and I do not know if you could have worn it without your mind being destroyed. I am glad you did not try."

For a long time neither of them spoke. "He very nearly succeeded. It… frightens me, how close he came to it."

"And he did not utterly fail either." Her gaze shifted to Elladan now. "After so many years of secrecy, do you think _he_ suspects? Do you think he knows who he almost killed?"

Elrond had been mulling over that question for some time. "Nay, by fortune or fate Estel's identity is still safe. I have reason to believe that this dark one had reached his own conclusion about… Estel's parentage." He felt his face flush, and developed up a sudden interest in a smooth round pebble near his foot.

Gilraen laughed. "Aye, I believe so as well. And I suppose we haven't allayed his suspicions, either." Elrond felt that he really wouldn't relish relating _that _incident to Glorfindel. "Perhaps it is just as well. For Estel's protection, integrity is a small price to pay."

The Lord of Imladris nodded. "We have agreed then, that the woman is not responsible for this?"

"Not wholly, yet some responsibility does rest on her shoulder. But she did something that this dark being did not expect, and somehow the poison went to Elrohir."

"And because of the specific nature of the poison- and it was not naturally made- anyone other than the intended victim does not die from it. But it works through the blood, so closer relatives to the victim get affected. And as Elrohir and Elladan are identical twins, Elrohir was affected greatly." He hesitated. "Are you sure she did not simply mistake the goblets?"

"Yes. I have seen that she was faced with a choice, and though I couldn't fully understand all the images I saw, I know that she _chose_ to put the poison in the wrong goblet."

Elrond nodded. He trusted the conviction in Gilraen's voice. "Ilitha is strong. Mayhaps one day she will break free."

"Perhaps. It must be of her own will, however, and the chains that bind her are embedded deep."

"What of Elladan?"

"I have spoken to him. It was not the easiest of tasks, but I believe he understands now. I believe it was the notion that Estel would kill himself of his own free will that convinced Elladan I was not myself either that night."

"And Estel? What does he have to say?"

"Nothing more than he has said to you, I would imagine. He remembers little of what happened to him, save that he lost control of his body, and saw his own hands drive the dagger towards his heart before darkness took him." 

Gilraen saw the fear of losing another loved one resurface briefly in Elrond's eyes. Elrond sighed. "We nearly lost him, Gilraen. And Elrohir also. I have let my guard lax, and nearly paid the price for it. I may yet."

"We will protect them, Elrond. For as long as we can, we will protect them."

"Oh, and the horse Are returned yester-eve. It was disorientated, which is unusual for horses bred by elves. I am quite sure, without checking, that it does not remember where Ilitha had dismounted."

Gilraen seemed more disturbed by this news. "Who was it, Elrond? Who can possibly do this?"

Elrond could only shake his head. "There are many evils in this world, my lady, and many have powers we cannot even imagine. We can only do what we can, and hope. For good has its own Power."

Peacefully they stood, immortal elf and human woman, letting the peace of Rivendell strengthen them. The shadow was moving now, its malicious thought seeking to weaken the heart, setting brother against brother, sowing fear and doubt. Elrond had made the near-fatal mistake of letting his guard down, lulled by the security of his hidden valley. Yet even Gondolin the fair had fallen, despite being hidden and the vigil of the Eagles. Vilya now pulsed on the elf-lord's finger; he resolved that he would not remove it until the end of this Age, his task done or failed.

Or so he thought. But that is another story.

"Mithrandir has sent a message that he is on his way for a visit," Elrond said with a smile. "For once he actually warns us of his coming. I suspect he knows of what has happened and wants to check on those three; he can be more protective of them than I at times, especially with Estel."

Gilraen smiled as well, remembering how excited her young human son would get every time the wizard came by. "Estel bears a great burden, my dear elf, and Mithrandir's labours are closely linked to the boy's destiny." 

Elrond's eyes went to Elrohir, still pale but bursting with energy after several days in sickbed, looking for all the world like he hadn't brushed death only a few days ago. Then he took in Elladan and Estel, as energetic as their brother, laughing as water splashed everywhere. But their eyes were haunted, their laughter slightly forced, betraying the shadow of doubt in their hearts. They would not speak of what had happened between them that night, but it had clearly scarred them, perhaps for life. Estel was still prone to occasional fits of coughing, his lung not fully healed as of yet, and though he usually said nothing, Elladan would always be there, his eyes watching with concern and, something else. Elrond knew that time would heal them both, yet old wounds had a way of splitting open right when they are least welcomed. 

"His mind was very strong," Elrond remarked quietly, remembering his own ordeal that night. If Gilraen hadn't been there… "Thank you Gilraen. I would not have been able to overpower him on my own."

Gilraen looked at him in surprise. "A humble admittance, my Lord. I see you are finally recognising the fact that even an elf lord needs assistance at times. And you are right, he is very strong. His mind is used to wrestling with the minds of others, and I had to surprise him to give you a chance of breaking free."

"How did you know where Vilya was hidden?" the elf-lord asked curiously.

Gilraen smiled. "I know a great many things, Peredhel."

It took a few moments of comfortable silence before Elrond was fully aware of the sudden change in his relationship with Gilraen. In the past the woman had been distant, shy of him and focused solely on raising Estel. They were very similar, he realised. Both of them had lost the other half of themselves, and were now drawn together to determine the fate of the world, as they protected the one who held it. But at one point the ice between them had melted, and now they stood side by side as they watched over their young charge. He loved Gilraen, but not as he had loved Celebrian. More like… a sister. The thought made him smile sadly, as he remembered many a night he and Elros would spend pretending to have another sibling.

Gilraen sensed his change in mood, and looked at him curiously. He smiled affectionately at her, wanting her to understand his feelings but not misconstrue them as something else. And her returning grin told him that she understood. It also reminded him so much of his brother's that he felt like raising an eyebrow at his father, who had appeared earlier today than usual, for the sun had barely touched the horizon.

The brothers splashed on, all three thoroughly soaked. Whoever had attempted to split them apart had underestimated the bond of love between them, stronger than the difference of blood. Even now, barely recovered from the ordeal, they gave what they could to strengthen each other; even Estel and Elladan. Elrond's eye was inevitably drawn to his adopted son, a child of his brother, the pinnacle of years of sacrifice and grief. 

A son of elves _and _men.

Estel, you carried the future of Middle-Earth the day you were born. The darkness stirs, and you must soon prepare to meet it. Such a task will take you far from home and what protection I can give. Be strong, Estel, for both your peoples.

The thought was sent silently down to the young Man, for Aragorn son of Arathorn of the Dùnedain knew himself only as Estel, adopted human son of Elrond of Rivendell.

__

How am I going to tell him?

~*~

__

[Language of Istari]

Saruman howled with rage. Somehow… somehow his plans had gone awry, and Mithrandir had won the Round before he could even register what was happening. It had exhausted him to retain such control on both Elrond and his son's mind- how strong they had been! - yet in the end, somehow he had been thrown off. Ilitha would bear the brunt of his anger when she arrived. He did not know what she had done, but surely this was her fault.

__

At least the heir to Imladris is gone. But there is the other, the brother. He must also be taken care of.

Despite his loss, the fallen wizard already had a plan in mind. A seed of doubt had been planted in the human boy's mind, one that not even the Grey wizard would notice until it was too late. It was the opening that Saruman needed; he delighted in the idea of making Elrond's precious son his downfall. He would wait, for his mind would never be able to enter Imladris again, not even for just a look. But eventually the boy would have to come out of the elven realm, and Saruman would be ready for him. It was a lot of effort to dispose of a mere mortal, but Saruman knew now not to underestimate the human's value in his adoptive family. Bringing down the elven realm would make his other tasks much easier. And an elf Ring, if Elrond had one of them indeed, would set him high in his Master's favor.

__

Prepare yourself, Mithrandir, for the next Round of our game. I promise you it will be... interesting.

****

End


End file.
